


Sugar

by Ladycat



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Fluff, Lipstick & Lip Gloss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-12
Updated: 2014-02-12
Packaged: 2018-01-12 03:26:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1181331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladycat/pseuds/Ladycat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ultimately, Rodney decided they were for Madison and somehow mistakenly ended up shipped to another galaxy. It wasn't the first time that had happened, oddly, so he let it slide.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sugar

Rodney stared down at the package his sister sent him. Normally, Jeanie could be relied upon to provide decent presents in her 'care packages'—something she insisted upon after her stint on Atlantis and the shocking lengths people (okay, _Rodney_ ) would go for chocolate; what, it was _chocolate_ —and this one did have an appropriately large number of goodies. Biscuits and a three-week stash of chocolate, some recent papers she'd marked up just to make him laugh through his frothing, a couple of books, some clothes... normal things.

Except nestled in the shredded brown paper was also a plastic package of chapstick. Not just any chapstick, oh no—this was the kind that was dolled up in brilliant colors and big, poofy writing highlighted with sparkles. This was the kind that _smelled_.

There was no note explaining such an atrocity in Rodney's otherwise happily stuffed package, nor were there any of the kind of sly, hinting sentences that Jeanie regularly used to make his head explode. At least, there were none about the smelly chapstick, anyway. _Root beer_. Who needed root beer flavored anything?

Ultimately, Rodney decided they were for Madison and somehow mistakenly ended up shipped to another galaxy. It wasn't the first time that had happened, oddly, so he let it slide.

Mostly, though, because the annual Atlantis Festivus was in three weeks. He needed stocking-stuffers and girls loved these kinds of things, right?

* * *

It was subtle, really. Pervasive. Gradual.

"Christ, McKay, will you talk to Keller about your allergies already?"

Rodney blinked. "I have, actually, and right now I'm allergy free and why are you concerned with my allergies? You're never concerned with my allergies except when they affect trade missions."

Sheppard humphed, leaning closer to his computer screen. For a man who could hot-wire alien aircraft and manipulate Ancient technology passably well, he was a chicken-scratch typist. "You're sniffing. If you've got a cold—"

"I don't have a cold!" Rodney caught himself mid-inhalation this time and flushed. "I just, um."

Sheppard was the original truffle-hunting pig when it came to humiliating Rodney. Spinning in his seat, hs asked, "Just _what?"_

"I smell mango, okay? Or at least I think it's mango and can we please just concentrate on finishing these reports before we die of old age?" His cheeks were red, he just knew it.

Strangely, Sheppard didn't tease him about his up-coming althizmers, instead licking his lips and looking maybe a little pink himself, around the ears. "Okay."

"Yes. Good. Great. Reports."

They worked in silence for another hour, each engrossed in the reports they had to read and comment on and hated with a driving passion. Neither of them were built to handle the buearocratic nonesense and honestly, they weren't good managers to begin with. Rodney was slightly better, but he suspected that was due solely to the prima donna scientists he'd had to work with over the years. He'd learned through trials of fire that certain personalities just did not mesh, no matter what, and had gotten much better at recognizing them.

A soft click from behind him wasn't enough to distract Rodney from a report all about the fantastic improvements in wheat-yield. The suddenly much stronger scent of sticky-sweet mango, however, _was_.

Whirling around Rodney, already had his hand up, finger stabbing accusingly as Sheppard froze with his own hand only halfway back towards his pocket. "That!" Rodney shouted. "That's what I'm smelling! That's—um. Sheppard?"

"Yes, Rodney?" The tips of his ears were absolutely red now, almost glowing.

"That's my chapstick. I mean, okay, not _mine_ , since I have no idea why Jeanie sent it to me and I suspect she didn't mean to, but she hasn't responded to my questions about it and I thought I gave that to Teyla, since it's girly and Teyla is a girl. Well, a woman. I wouldn't really call her 'girly' and..." Rodney ran down, too busy gawking at Sheppard.

Sheppard who was fingering the damned tube of chapstick, the paper covering already fading to white from being held just like this, while his neck turned the same shade as his ears.

If he took his shirt off, Rodney abruptly wondered, his chest might be red, too.

"The, uh, chapstick was for me."

"It what?"

"Me, Rodney." Sighing gustily, Sheppard leaned back in his seat, clearly prepared to ride out his humiliation. "It's a pilot thing?"

Rodney crossed his arms. Oh, no _way_ was that an acceptable answer. "And?"

"Look, not all choppers are covered, right? So pilots get windburn a lot."

"I will pull your teeth if that's what it takes, Sheppard."

"Look, fine, it was back when I was first learning to fly. Not in the Academy," he added hurriedly, "but when I was a kid and taking private lessons. There were a bunch of us in the class, including this one kid—girl—Lorraine. She used to hand out chapstick for us to use before each class and it just kinda became a... thing."

Was Sheppard’s _nose_ bigger? It looked like it, although that could’ve been due to the way it was red and his cheeks weren’t. "Let me guess: Lorraine was a few years older than you, buxom, probably blonde... "

"That's your fantasy, not mine," Sheppard snapped back, cross. "She was the flight instructor's kid, at least six years younger than me." So defended, Sheppard lost some of his ire and shifted uncomfortable. Clearly, there was more to the story. "She, uh. She used to tell me it was for luck. That it'd get me into the Air Force."

That was the _real_ humiliation, Rodney knew, instinctively staying quiet. Pilots were notoriously superstitous and although Sheppard hid his better than most, he still had the quirks and oddities Rodney had come to expect from Air Force pilots. Only his wasn't a particular gesture or quip, wasn't a way of wearing—or not wearing—an article of clothing.

His was the good luck gesture of a girl who'd charmed him, oh so long ago, one that would _stay_ something little-girl-ish all his life. One he kept anyway.

"Ah," Rodney said eventually. "We haven't been flying recently?"

Slowly, Sheppard was starting to relax, shoulders lowering as he became comfortable with Rodney's acceptance. "It's not like we get wind-burn in the 'jumpers."

"So?"

"So it was something Madison and I talked about," Sheppard said, quietly enough that Rodney almost didn't hear him. "When we were waiting."

Oh. Rodney blinked, rapidly, the way he always did when that subject was brought up. Even obliquely. He knew, intellectually, that Sheppard had spent a surprising amount of time with Madison, going to Kaleb's hotel several times to give them updates and to allow the man an hours' peace, outside where the cold, frigid air might numb some of his fears.

Knowing it, though, and _hearing_ about it were two different things.

"That was nice of her," Rodney said quietly. "Madison, I mean. Telling Jeanie." And Jeanie, remembering to slip in something for John, too. She did that a lot, actually; it was just that normally Rodney could recognize who that particular oddity was for. "But I gave them to Teyla?"

Sheppard shrugged, idly kicking a foot back and forth. He was still flushed, highlighting the dark angles of his hair. "I saw her with them and kinda... asked."

"Ah. Yes. That was, um, good of her to give them to you."

"Honestly, I don't think she really understood what I wanted them for." A ghost of a smile finally, thankfully, lightened the mood a little, releasing some of the awkward tension. "She got hung up on the part where it would make my lips smooth _and_ smell like sweet fruit."

"Probably a give-away," Rodney conceded, rolling his eyes. Teyla's tactical side never slept. "When we're on a mission."

"Well, yeah, but mostly she thought that, I, uh, got them. For. Someone."

Turning back to his computer, Rodney frowned at the blinking cursor. His question had been solved and if he was trying to figure out what Sheppard meant by ‘for someone’ that was his business. Particularly when it finally did occur to him what Teyla had been implying. Yes, of course, that made sense. Soft lips were something Rodney considered a necessity when it came to—to that. Type of activity.

"Rodney," Sheppard said, voice suddenly a lot lower.

"Yes, I'm sure she'll enjoy them. It does smell nice." And it did, actually. Fruity, and a little artificial, but still pleasant against the spicy musk of whatever product Sheppard used, a scent that was actually growing stronger instead of fainter and whoa!

Rodney clung to the arms of his chair as it was swung back around, staring up at Sheppard in shock.

"I threw away the orange one," Sheppard told him, close, so close, and then _closer_ , tilting his head so their noses brushed and Rodney was overwhelmed with the scent of mango right before lips that were soft, god, _so_ soft pressed gently against his own.

A few long, ragged moments later, Sheppard pulled back long enough to rest his forehead against Rodney's. "Just in case."

"In—" Rodney cleared his throat. It had even _tasted_ like mango, or at least sweet enough specifics didn’t matter. "In case?"

Sheppard's smile was surprisingly shy for a man who'd just examined every inch of Rodney's mouth with pleasing thoroughness. "Yeah, Rodney. Just in case."

* * *

Several days later, Zelenka sat up very suddenly and sniffed so hard he _honked_. The bustle of the lab slowed. "What is that?" he demanded.

"Um. What is what?" Fortunately, it wasn't Rodney who asked, but Miko, eyes even bigger behind her coke-bottle lenses.

Rodney took advantage of the lull to edge a few more feet between him and everyone else.

"It smells—" Zelenka paused, head tilted as he sniffed again. "Root beer? Very sugary root beer?"

Rodney shoved his groin more firmly underneath the table and thought very, very bad things about Sheppard. Bad things that included the tube of cotton candy flavored chapstick tucked away in his pocket. He was going to paint kisses _all over_ Sheppard's neck and in his hair, which meant that not only would he have to explain the goofy yes-I-was-just-fucked-grin that he couldn't seem to ever get rid of, but _also_ why he smelled like sweetened cotton candy. To the marines who knew damned well that Sheppard didn’t sleep with any of the women on base, no matter how much they might gossip about it, which meant the only acceptable answer was null and happily void.

Then again, the blow job had been worth it.

"Who is taunting me with root beer?" Zelenka growled, pacing through the room as he paused to sniff here and there, tracking the elusive scent. "I will make whoever it is _pay._ "

Trying very hard not to snicker, Rodney called up his email program. If he was very careful, he could probably get video.


End file.
